


The Alchemy between Us

by karrenia_rune



Category: Original Work
Genre: Big Bang Challenge, Dragons, F/M, Magical Bond, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Quests, cures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-11 23:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karrenia_rune/pseuds/karrenia_rune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two realms have been at each others' throats for hundreds of years and it seems as if there is no end in sight, however when a deadly illness strikes one of the realms only the scions of both have any hope of getting the cure to the stricken realm in time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Alchemy between Us

"The Alchemy between Us" by Karrenia

 

You can find the mix I created when writing this story on Spotify here: http://open.spotify.com/user/1234865710/playlist/3OxoCqCmhmHYPY085tRqHn

I am caught between two worlds, what I wouldn’t give to feel the sunlight on your face. What I wouldn’t give to be lost in your embrace.

I hastily scribble over those last two lines with the air of one of who fears that unfriendly eyes are watching me. Those same mean-spirited souls will eagerly rush to report that am whiling away my free time in composing love poems. 

I flatter myself that I have any talent for such things, or that the recipient of same will feel her heart flutter in her chest, her pulse race in anticipation of our next tryst; so few and far between as they are.

However, that did not change the fact that while it may be dangerous to explicitly address those verses to the one I hold most dear, the sentiments are true ones.  
While I cannot communicate directly with the girl I love, or she with me: this has never deterred us in the past. 

There are those both within and without the palace walls that have aided our people in the past, using various methods of communication, letters, messenger birds, even the dragon’s eye crystals found only in the remote regions of my land, that provides those with the right clan markings and talents to use them to communicate over vast distances. 

These valuable and powerful crystals were once as numerous as the grains of sand of the Kiroby Desert, but no more. The mines have become increasingly played out, and now these crystals are perhaps more valuable than gold.

Speaking of clan markings I held out my own arm across the surface of the teak-wood desk in my chambers and glance at the whorls, and icon-graphic designs that adorn my cinnamon-colored skin. 

These are more than just ceremonial, more than the indication that have finally come of age within the ruling clan and now stand as heir to all of the kingdom of Basra.  
It means that our clan’s spirit dragons, those who dwell in the earth, the sky, and even the stone, are a part of my trust, my bloodline.

Growing up I never really believed in such superstitious nonsense, after all, the dragons and their brethren, the jinn, and other supernatural beings, those belonged to the Fellowship of the Spirit, were just stories told to children, and I thought nothing more of it, as I grew to adulthood.

If that were true, then why then did I suddenly feel an unaccustomed disquiet deep within my bones, as if my subconscious were forcing me to recognize something that reason and my extensive education had inured me to accept as impossible?

 

***  
“I knew that I would find you here.” 

I involuntarily started and then hastily rolled up the parchment that I had been using, and stuffed into the lining of my robes; unaware that as I did so that I had smeared my left cheek with a gob of black ink.

For his part, Darius either didn’t notice my indiscretion or even if he did, chose not to remark upon it. He simply cleared his throat and with a casual over-hand throw tossed me a quarter-staff.

I groaned, there were many other things that I might have chosen to do at this moment, such as a leisurely horse-back ride around the palace gardens or something of the like, anything but practicing swipes and counter swipes with the formidable Arm-Master whose for all his bulk was still as swift as a cobra and since we’d begun to my training in fighting techniques.

Over the course of my training he had given me more than a few blows that had left me black and blue for days. I prided myself in that, although I would perhaps never be as proficient as Darius, I at least, had some natural ability, and I was not as clumsy as when I had been a raw lad of some ten or eleven years.  
Now, as an adolescent of marriageable age, with lean muscle rather than bulk, I could at least hold my own.

I recalled complaining once that I would not be fighting anyone with wooden sticks and would have preferred swords, Darius had gruffly pointed out, “I realize that you’re bored, but are you really in such hurry to die? Young Prince, we all must start out somewhere, and one must learn to crawl before we learn to walk.”  
Seeing the wisdom of this, the lessons had continued apace.

Still, it could not be helped, such training was more than just the ceremonial training given to all the male heirs of our Jade Throne, it was also necessary. 

I could not have told you all the reasons for the seemingly interminable feuding between ourselves and the neighboring kingdom of Sinjandi.  
It had begun centuries ago, probably over trading rights, or gold, or some hereditary disagreement, but after such a long time had passed these days nobody, perhaps for the elders, even remembered what had set the spark to the tinder. 

Now it seemed as if it were as constant as the rising and setting of the sun over the desert. 

“Come, it is time for weapons-training,” Darius said gruffly.  
I got up and followed him into the wooden-pane1led floor that the palace servants regularly cleaned and sprinkled with sand.

“You’ve learned a few things over the years,” Darius commented at one point, moving astonishingly swiftly for a man of his size.  
He stood at just under a meter tall and his scarred arms visible underneath the padded leather jerkin her wore glistened with sweat, limning the two-headed white dragon appear as if were hovering only yards above the wooden practice floor, it ruby-red eyes glaring balefully and any who would dare to trifle with its master.

Even as he drilled through the various sword forms with his arms-master Jintao could not held but recognize various key landmarks that dotted the face of the land. He wondered that if this was intentional, if it in fact was meant to help the practitioner of this deadly dance of stroke upon stroke focus. Seemingly, as if the older man could read his thoughts, Darius remarked. “You see the sword forms, you see how they correspond to the terrain and the landmarks of our land, this is not just for show, not just for rote memorization or because of our adherence to our traditions. It is a necessary as making your blade an extension of your arm, your own will. Do you understand?”

“I think I do, but there is so much to learn!” I exclaimed. Even as the words of the complaint were out of my mouth, I instantly regretted them. 

For one they sounded as peevish and juvenile to my ears as they no doubt to his, and hardly worthy of the man I was so eager to become. For another matter they would do little to convince my mentor in the art of warfare to go easy on me. He never went easy on anyone except his horse, and perhaps his wife, who never mentioned, but everyone knew that he had loved her, and still missed her terrible even though she had died in a raid over seven years ago.

“And I will teach them all to you. I tell you this last, not because I wish to see you get a swelled heat, but I see potential in you boy, potential that none other has shown in decades.”

“What? I don’t understand, as much as would normally have exulted and perhaps even strutted about with pride as this unaccustomed praise, something in either Darius’ voice or manner caught me up and forced to maintain my composure. 

“The magic that runs in our blood, can do more than just heal hurts, or lift stones, or frighten away evil spirits, which is all well and good, but once it was capable of so much more.”

“Like what?” This was something new and completely unexpected coming from a military-minded man famous in Basra for his level-headed thinking and skepticism of anything smacking of magic.

The ordinary sort of magic we knew and understand, the kind that made every day ordinary tasks like cooking or farming, such as clearing fields of heavy stones by summoning the spirits of the air; what other kind of magic could he possibly mean?

“I could explain it, but I think it would be best to show you.” I can only do this is for short periods of time, so mind that you pay attention, boy!”

Sheathing his swords and then picking up the wooden practice staves he picked them up and placed back in the storage racks, then returned to where I stood waiting for him.

“Legends had it, that long ago, that the clan markings held greater significance than just decoration or identification. Once, in ages now long past our ancestors could summon the magic of the spirit dragons.”

“I’ve heard the legends, but surely that’s all they are, just legends, stories told to children.”

“Boy, did I or did I not tell you to pay attention!” he shouted.

“You did, but I….” I trailed off in confusion.

“Then do so,” he gruffly replied, somewhat mollified. Darius was not a man that one wished to anger. He had a slow but cold temper.

He shrugged out of his padded leather jerkin holding his arms out parallel to the ground, the movement making the muscles in his arms, back and shoulders flex with each shift in position.  
Darius heaved and concentrated on his breathing for several minutes, in and out, in and out, and then before I could even think about interrupting, the white dragon on his arms was no longer just a drawing, it had seemingly come to life and leapt off his arms and onto the floor, its tail twitch as it jolted toward on its stubby but powerful legs, tongue lolling lazily.  
As much as I manfully attempted to hold back my shock at its abrupt appearance least of all, and the equal shock that Darius had been the one to summon it; I was not entirely successful at it.

In order to avoid catching the speculative and mocking look in Darius' eye I attempted to lock gazes with the serpent crouching on top of the towel rack, one milky-blue eye glaring at me with what I was more than certain was the same speculative and mocking look that was mirrored in its master's eye.  
I had not wrapped my head around the idea that it was real

Darius said, “Jintao, the man that is wise does sit around and wait for the world to come home piece by piece to prove its existence. No, he goes out and experiences it.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded, breaking my attention away from the dragon only with difficulty in order to pay attention to my weapons-master words.

“This is perhaps partially my fault, I should introduced you earlier to the 'ben-gaharis way, the techniques of breathing and concentration necessary for us to communicate with our ancestral spirit dragons. Once, this was as common to the tribes of the desert as the sun and the moon exchanging places in the sky.”

“But that's a legend!”

“It is now, and that's what certain factions with the our two kingdoms want the people to think. And they might very get their way, if it steps are not taken to prevent that from happening. Our magic is an innate part of ourselves.” 

Darius made an intricate twining pattern with his fingers, and then swiftly untangled them, grabbing my hands with his own. “Don't see you see” in a hushed undertone that was all the more convincing than if he had shouted. 

“The two aspects of our nature need each other. I suppose one could argue that we humans could survive without our dragon spirits, but I would not do so. The two are two sides of double-sided coin. I believe that the dragons need us as much as we need them, something must be done, and soon!”

“Tell me!” I demanded.

“I don't know. Gods above, I wish that I did,” Darius replied, adopting his customary nonchalant and stern tones, “It will take wiser heads than mine, but my instincts tell me that you will have a part to play, for better or worse before the end. Now, what did I tell about your habit of leaning too far forward?”

“You told me not to,” I replied evenly. 

Darius nodded and making another intricate hand-sign, the white dragon abruptly vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

It regarded me, and I, in turn, warily eyed it in return. Then I heard it speak, not with my ears, but inside my head. “This one will do,” it said.

“I should hope so, or I might well have wasted my time, and we are rapidly running out of options.”

It was Darius speaking, not to me, but to the small white dragon. I did not know what to think. Then the creature blurred around the edges, it crisp lineaments fading, until it had vanished once more. Even as it vanished into the ether I could have sworn it winked at me, passing on a silent message that I was simply too dense to grasp. It hovered just on the edge of my awareness, slippery and elusive, but important.

“There,” Darius said, folding his arms over his muscled chest, and nodding to me. “Did you see that? Do you understand now?”

“I, think so, but I think I need to know more.” You see that anyone with the clan tattoos can do this?”

“No, not just anyone, but I’ve put in a great deal of effort to look into all the clans, noble and commoner alike, and while it is not generally known, that one can summon one’s spirit dragon for a short duration, one can, if trained properly and can focus one’s will, you may also communicate with your dragon.”

“I never knew that such a thing was possible!” I exclaimed.

“You should have been taught better! Darius sighed. “I should have brought this matter up with your parents long before this. I blame myself, and now it might be too late.”

“Too late for what?” I demanded.

“For bringing the magic potential within to the surface, where it will do our people the most good. Be warned, even if we have the time to do so, I caution you, like all magic it can cut both ways. It can be both a blessing and a curse. So we will proceed with caution. Do you want to learn?”

I thought over everything that he had told me, and somehow I knew that this was not a decision that should be rushed into headlong or without consideration.  
I know myself to be many things: stubborn, head-strong, passionate, with a deep love for my people, and with the sense of duty as well. 

And, I could hear both the spoken and unspoken concerns in Darius’ deep voice, and slowly nodded my head. “Yes, I want to learn. I don’t understand everything of what just happened here, today, but I want to learn.”  
Darius eyed me and then said, in that gruff voice of his: “Good then, because I believe that even if we do not act soon, our chance will be lost.” 

“How can the magic be lost, it’s been with us for centuries.”

“Exactly, but the simple kind of magic, as I mentioned earlier, but the magic of that sustains our lands, the magic of the earth, the air, fire and water, that was granted to humanity from the spirit dragons, that is ebbing, and I do not understand why; not yet.”

**

 

Elsewhere

The illness that Darius had spoken struck the villagers and the poor people first, but soon it spread indiscriminately, rich and poor, commoner and noble alike. It spared no one.

Like a sneak thief in the night, or the creeping ground mist that still lingered on the dirt ground of the poorer villages or the cobblestones of the wealthier outlying districts, the initial symptoms appeared.  
Masquerading first as the illness that the apothecaries, leeches, wise man and midwives, and all those who specialized in the arts of healing were familiar in treating, colds, ague, fevers, chills and the like.  
And for a time, all was well, in fact, almost nine times out of ten, those who feel ill soon recovered, and high and low alike believed that the worst was over. 

The illness was merely biding its time, hiding in plain sight, and almost as if had a will of its own; it struck again, sinking its insidious claws into the soul of all. Basra's healers were at a loss to explain the curious behavior illness and frantically put their collective heads together to explain why their previous methods of treatment could not combat this peculiar new strain of the virus.

Will, I myself have not witnessed firsthand the toll the virus has on those afflicted, I can only relate what have heard second-hand as it were. I do now, that I have heard the healers that their medicines and meditation techniques are having a moderate amount of success in succoring their patients physical comfort; the toll on the spiritual states, very much less so.  
Soon it begun to infect the upper class, and magic users and those whose clan markings allow them the ability to communicate and control the spirit dragons, and summon, are the hardest hit.

Rumors and fears abound, circulating with a rapidity that takes my breath away. The public outcry must force my father, the King of Basra to act, and quickly, before it its too late.  
Quite frankly, my dear, even as write this letter to you, I am desperate for news of a much more practical nature: how do things fare in Sinjandi? 

My father is worried, more preoccupied than he ever was, although for a man given over much to taciturnity even at the best of times, he does share his worries with myself. Perhaps he believes me to be too rash, too given to abstractions, too soft headed. And truth to tell, my believed, he might well be correct in his misgivings.  
However, in all serious this virus has put into my head a thought, a terrible thought, might this virus not weaken us so much physical as it does spiritually. 

I have been much in the company of my arms-master Darius. 

For a man given to forthrightness practicality, he has been intimidating into legends of a similar virus visiting our two lands over three centuries ago, And if he is correct; as I fear that he is, we have very little time left.

Perhaps, I should clarify, according to Darius if the virus is not stopped or a cure found, those of who possess the ability to communicate with our spirit dragons will lose whatever magic we have, and for some that fate might be worse than death.

Please, my beloved, if you know of anyone, any source or half-remembered legend that will help shed light on this hour of extremity; please write back. Yours, to life and beyond, Jinato.

 

**  
Meanwhile, in the neighboring kingdom, Princess Soraya, having been primped and prepped within an inch of her life sat upright in her throne, trying her best to pay attention to the important discussion going on around her. She knew that it was not only expected of her but also vital lesson in state craft that she attend these deliberations, but all the same, it was also rather tedious at times.  
Her lustrous black hair that she would, under other less dire and constrained circumstances would have preferred to fall loosely down her back, had been piled atop her head and held in place with a series of ivory and shell combs.

Her own miniature dragon, a black dragon with cobalt blue eyes perched on armrests of her chair staring intently at his mistress, preening its wings and shaking its head.  
Every so often it would glance inquiringly at its fellows who occupied perches scattered around the audience chamber, and giving from the undercurrents of hissing, clicking and clacking and restless capping of bat-winged pinons, much like the humans partners that they were joined with, none its fellows were in complete harmony with one another. 

As heated and important as the discussions currently underway Soraya, was decidedly ambivalent about it all, honestly, the Minister of Finance, and the Minister of Interior were carping at each other like a couple of mangy, scrawny jackals for a good part of the past hour and half, and it appeared likely that would not cease their carping. 

It was also apparent that each of the assorted ministers present seemed to be talking around the central issue, which was whether or not to declare war against their neighboring rivals, the Kingdom of Basra.

She curled her fingers into claws, and stole a glance at her magical familiar, Soot, so called for the matter black color of his glossy matte black scales, and he winked at her.  
She could not help it; for a moment she stared back at this glossy orbs, fascinated by what I saw in them. 

If anyone were to tell you that the miniature dragons were no more than dumb animals, no more or no less than say a horse or a goat, or even the hunting falcons or a gazelle was a dumb animal, I would heartily disagree with them.

There was an almost palpable sense behind those twin opalescent orbs that hinted at mischief and an air of knowing more than it let on.

Then he jumped down from his perch to land on her outstretched arm, sheathed in a leather glove, modified from those used by Sinjandi's nobility to pursue the sport of hunting the cliff-side dwelling hawks.

“Enough of this!” Soraya finally declared, stepping into the semi-circle of elegantly robed ministers. “You have all made excellent points, but it is obvious to anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear that you are all talking around the central issue. This war with our neighboring land has taxed Sinjandi beyond reason. And to what end?”

The Minister of the Interior, a tall, spare, gangly man who had due to his appearance and beak-like nose had gained the nickname “the Buzzard,” ventured to interfere, saying,”Your Highness, they started it.”

“After centuries of feuding; does it really matter who started it?”

“Well, no, not really, but the fact of the matter, is that we are honor-bound to finish it,” another minister replied.

“Ah, the honorable Minister of War speaks,” chided Soraya. “Your opinion on the matter is well-known and well-worn.

“That's because I've had to had to chivvy these other yellow-bellied jackals into action, for they seem to lack the fortitude to do so!” the older man shouted.

“You old war-hawk!” How dare you!,” shouted the Minister of the Interior.

“Enough!” Soraya ordered. “My parents wish me to act in this manner as I see fit, as a test for my coming of age as heir apparent to the throne of Sinjandi, as as such, I order for the assembled ministers to find a means by which we will seek conciliation with the kingdom of Basara. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” They we were not keen on on it, but the princess did have all the backing of her royal lineage behind her, and while some did not like it, and made their simmering frustration plain and public, others gave way to the orders with good grace.

 

**

A fortnight or so later an old soothsayer arrived at the Basara palace seeking audience with the king, and was soon granted it.  
He claimed to possess knowledge of crucial ingredients for a cure to the plague, however, even when pressured to elaborate, he would only say that we would recognize when we came upon it.

My father, King Marado, sat in state in his ornate throne flanked by his advisers and the ever-present bodyguards, cloaked and masked in black, their eyes, the only feature of their faces that could be seen underneath the unrelieved color of their garb, flinty and ever-watchful. 

“You have been granted audience, old man,” the Major Domo declared in a stentorian voice that echoed loudly among the high-arched columns, up among the vaulted ceilings.

I, too, was curious what the old man had to say, for in a way that I could not have explained I felt a tingling along the black hairs on my forearms and along the curls on the nape of my neck that it was important.

He settled himself down on his haunches, rolling up the sleeves of his gray and travel-stained robes. “Effendi,” he began, addressing my father by the respectful title of Lord. 

“I come to you, bearing knowledge that you would do well to pay heed to. Know that I do so not out any desire to seek reward or advancement of any kind.”

“Then what do you want, odd one?” commented the Minister of Treasury, mockingly. “Perhaps we do better, my lords, to demand of this hermit where he really comes from and who sends him.”

“My name is not important,” replied the old man evenly. “And time is of the essence. I know of the illness that sweeps across our land. I assure all of you that it will get much worse before it gets better, and I also know of the means by which a cure may be found.”

“How?” my father demanded. Although he was not a man given to overt displays of emotion and had long ago learned to school his reactions, I could tell by the deepening lines in hi s face, especially around the eyes that he was feeling the pressure. 

“You must seek out the ingredients required for the cure,” replied the old man, and for some reason his eyes rested on my face; I could not have told you why, in that moment, that I felt something important pass between us, as if he knew me, knew me in ways that none other ever had. 

“This is not a task for the faint of heart, nor for an army, no it must be done by the heirs to each of the kingdoms.”

“Are you insane, old man!” cried my father.

“No, no, not quite, but that is not important, your son, Effendi and the heir to the kingdom of Sinjandi must go, and they must be stalwart, for upon them rests not only the survival of their people, but of a means to restore the ancient magic of the dragon-kind.”

“Turning to look at me, “You must not turn to look back or heed the exhortations of those who would seek to lead you astray.

When pressured, the old soothsayer would say no more about the dangers that lay ahead of them.

 

***** 

I waited with breathless anticipation in the tiled garden that abutted the southern wall of the Sinjandi palace, the dust and grit of the desert crossing nothing more than a distant memory.  
Soraya had never failed to meet in our special appointed spot before. I strolled over to the sunken ornamental pond with is its gold and black pop-eyed fish swimming in lazy circles in its depths. I took a deep breath and inhaled the scents of the night air, the water, and heaved a sigh.

I heard her approach before I could see her, the scent of jasmine clinging to her clothes and skin and hair as I always remembered it. She tapped on my shoulder and I turned around, reaching out to embrace my beloved.  
I could feel her trembling underneath my hands and I, besotted and drunk on love, believe it to be the same breathless anticipation of desire and love so long denied, that I turn her in my hands so that I may gaze upon her veiled face. 

Her face is indeed flushed with effusive emotion, her dusky skin rouged with the dusky rose that  
I recalled so fondly, but even though I see her love for me shining in her kohl-rimmed almond-shaped brown eyes there are also other overwhelming emotions that supersede our love. Fear, I never have seen such fear and such passion in Soraya before, so much so that my own needs pale in comparison.

“What is wrong?”

She did not reply at once, stepping out of my arms, to catch her breath and regain her considerable poise, her veil had come undone in her haste and she reached up her hands to put it to rights. 

For some reason I do not believe the gesture had anything to do with observing the rules of propriety, or for fear that the eunuch guards or her duenna would catch her in such a state. No, I believe it was meant, at this moment as for her to find something to occupy her hands.

When she had recovered she stepped forward and gave me a chaste peck on the check. “Jintao, I am so sorry to come to you in such a state. I must look a fright, but as much as it gives me great pleasure to see once more; Time is of the essence!”

“It is good to see you once more, but tell me, what do you mean by that?”

“I fear we might already be too late”” she replied.

“Just because I’m a girl, they keep things from me, things I deserve to know, if I am one to day to assume the throne.”

“I don’t understand,” I replied.

“You will, if you haven’t already.” She sighed and came forward to interlace her hands in mine. “This has always been a secret thrill, you and I meeting like this, despite all of the obstacles, all the bad blood and all the long centuries of feuding; I just wish it would stop.”

“As do I, and I have even gone so far as to suggest to my parents that a union between the two of us would be a good first step.”

“You always were a hopeless romantic at heart, Jintao,” she said, with a tremulous sigh. “A part of me wishes that it would be that simple, however we both now, it’s not that simple, and I have this vague sense that the time for such solutions is slipping away from us like sand through an hourglass.”

I don’t know why, I don’t understand how but a gnawing sense of disquietude crept over me the longer we spoke about this. 

It was not as if it were the first time that we had discussed the divisiveness that had separate our two kingdoms, but it was an old story, but the old hurts and wrongs of centuries ago did ran through our peoples like blood and just like blood it came out on all sides. 

“Have you felt as if something precious slipping away? I don’t know how it came about, not exactly, however rumors that have more than a feeling of truth to them have come to us, rumors that a deadly illness is sweeping the land.”

“What kind of illness?” I asked, more disturbed by this than by anything that had preceded it.”

“I don’t know, I don’t understand very much, but I do know that I had to tell you, and this was the only way I go about it. I did not dare to trust to a message.” 

“Tell me, Please,” I insisted.

She took a deep breath and said: “All I know that is the Basaran villages have been struck first. Initially, the illness comes as a sudden fever, than ague, than as the body weakens so does the spirit, and when the spirit fails, their magic drains away from them.”

I took in a deep fraught of the heat-laden air, and I was a long time before I breathed it out again. “I believe you, Soraya, Spirits defend us, but I believe. Is there anything we can do?”

“All I know is that, according to the strange old man who brought this news to us, before he departed as mysteriously as he appeared, that it would get worse before it got better.”

“Rather cryptic, that last, This news, while now of it happy, is perhaps timely. Only a fool seeks pleasurable news in a time of trial, and I try not to be a fool,” I said, embracing her once more.

“It is a good thing then, that you have me around,” she replied as she stepped forward and this time we embraced for a long time.

 

**  
The Field of Singing Stones

“Did you hear that?” Soraya asked.

“Hear what?” I asked.

“It sounds like the rising and falling rhythm of voices in the distance, yet how near must they be that we can hear them not yet have seen them yet?”

“I don’t hear anything?” I replied. It was not that I doubted hear, or felt that she was hearing things. We had been a length of time traveling through the unremitting sameness of the empty lands, empty of anything other than sand dunes, cacti, desert life and often the roving nomadic black-garbed desert riders. 

It was perhaps fortunate for us that our paths had not crossed theirs, their reputation as fierce fighters who disdained civilized city dwellers as anything other than potential targets was well-known and well-deserved.  
Only now and then had we come across the oases that made desert travel possible, and we had taken advantage of all we could find.

Soraya wandered in an elliptical pattern, the bow and the quiver of arrows strapped to her back seemingly forgotten in the trance of the music that only she could hear. Concern for her not yet turning to fear, or if there was a cause for the concern that was nibbling at my guts like tiny hot needles  
She continued on for some ways until she reached the outer stretches of a field that had not been planted with any crops such as we had ever seen or even heard of before. I followed along at some distance should anything happen to her. 

I found her crouched at the edge of this uncanny field, a field of upright stones, not all one size, some as large as a boulder standing upright from the hard ground at the height of a very tall man, others squat and broad, yet others, long and narrow like the spears of a platoon of footmen and only their weapons left to shine in the sun to show how diligently that they had held their ground.

Soraya knew that what she was experiencing could not possibly be real. She sensed that the voices that she heard singing were a product of her own over-wrought imagination, but the voices resounded in her head, too insistent, too powerful and much too entrancing to be denied.

She tried to block out the sound by covering her ears with her hands, and when that only worked for a short while, she ripped a band of cloth from the sleeves of her cloak and stuffed them into her ears. The stones sang to her of cool shadows and calm waters, and sleep. 

Soraya was vaguely aware of Jintao hovering anxiously at her side, and just when she was tempted enough to fall into those shadows she felt Jinatao's hands pulling her bank from the brink at the last moment when she would have fallen head-long into them.

“What?” she murmured sleepily. 

“You nearly disappeared!” I exclaimed.

“I did no such thing”” she indignantly remarked, and then recalling what she'd been thinking, she shook her head. 

At that moment, one of her saddle bags began to twitch, seemingly of its own volition and suddenly a head popped out shortly followed by the remainder of its owner. “Soot!” Soraya cried. 

The little matte-black miniature dragon seemingly seemed to grin with pleasure at having been recognized by his mistress, for it leaped with great agility and landed up on her leather-capped arm. “What are you doing here?  
I thought I ordered to remain in Sinjandi.”

Soot cooed and preened his bat-like wings, and stubbornly refused to leave.

I had seen that leather-band but had assumed she wore it to protect her arm when the need should arise to use the bow and arrows she wore strapped to her back to hunt for game, or to protect us from the nomadic bandits that often ranged far afield across the desert.

Soraya shook her head, and the answered my earlier question. “Well, perhaps, just a little, the song the stones sing is compelling indeed. The old sage warned about this, did he not? I should have been prepared!” she chided herself.

“At least, you managed to recognize the danger, so there's no harm done. But we should be wary of the next obstacle that the old sage warned us about. 

“The Mirrors,” she whispered under her breath.

“Where nothing is ever what it appears to be,” I nodded.

“If we can get past that, we will be close to reach our destination the resting place of the legendary golden dragon.”

“Do you really believe that he exists, let alone is still alive after all these years?” she asked.

“I hope so, our history, our legends tell of a golden dragon and that lives of the dragon-kind are centuries longer than us humans, so we must hold out hope that he's still there and will help us find a cure for the magic-draining plague. If not, then.. we're all dead.”

 

**

The Hall of Mirrors

I could not have said how or why it happened, but although we had been warned on the faded and crumbling map given to us by the old man, still we stumbled right into it. I felt ashamed at the fact that upon cresting one sand dune, and then coming down at the far end, leading the horses we feel right into the trap.  
It was, in a way, quite beautiful, yes, but deadly all the same. Soraya had fallen off of her horse, but luckily was unharmed, just winded, and soon recovered.

 

She stood up and gazed around with a gasp, taking in our surroundings.

Soot pounced down to land on the smoothly tiled floor, fluffing his wings and staring around with big, opalescent eyes. 

I wondered what he made of all this. Being a magical creature himself he might have had an opinion. Which led me to wonder how his kind manage to communicate with their human counterparts. I put it my on my list to ask 

Soraya about, later, should we survive this experience.  
Always regretting, always too late; would that become the warp and weft of my life? I was tired of the position, let someone else have it. 

In the meantime, Soraya, apparently much more sensible than I had taken it upon herself to begin to looking around at our immediate surroundings, getting her bearings wondering which of the many paths that we should take to get out the hall.

“The legends I heard that this place was built centuries ago at the order of powerful and greedy vizier who held a wizard in his thrall and had used the hall to lure unwary caravans into it, in order to supplement his own coffers.”

Soraya nodded. “I've heard much the same thing, but how do we get out of here?”

“I do not know.”

“Soraya leaned down and began whispering into Soot's ear, words too low-pitched and murmured for me to make out, but I did not begrudge her this, the bond between the miniature dragons and their human counterparts was a private one. Finished, she picked Soot up and put him on her shoulder. 

I spent the time soothing and rounding up the horses. We could not very well leave them here to starve or worse.

“Soot thinks that in order to not fall pray to the magic of this place, the best thing to will be to use blindfolds, and to trust to our instincts and his own to find a path that will lead out of here.”  
I could not help myself, I shuddered, at the thought of being thus robbed of my sight, but a more logical and rational side asserted itself, her suggestion made a hell of a lot of sense. “Very well, let's do it.”

Tearing a piece of cloth from her traveling cloak she created first a blindfold for me, and then I used the rest of the cloth to make one for her. And, then, taking up the lead lines for the horses in one hand, and using tying a rope around our waists we chose a path deeper into the hall of mirrors.  
I do not recall much of that journey, only that with our eyes covered we were immune to the blandishments that sought to draw us into its ancient prison; instead we were assaulted by noise and invisible permutations.

However, at the last, we did manage to escape.

Emerging into the sunlight on a wind-swept dune, with the wind at our backs and the hall shimmering into a ground-hugging heat mirage was like waking from a bad dream.

 

**  
The trail which had appeared out of a cloud of a slowly dwindling dust storm, was a fortunate discovery. 

Neither of us were inclined to question or sudden turn-around of good luck or its origin, mainly because we were too tired and also because Soot was resting on the saddle pommel of Soraya's horse like a hunting hound on point.

After an interval of time that neither of us marked the trail came to an end at the entrance to an enormous cavern, blocked by a boulder.

The sun had just come up dusting our surroundings with a pale nimbus of golden light. Soraya noticed that just around the bend of the mound there was a small oasis with palm trees whose fronds waved in the desert winds. 

It was a likely looking place to camp and let the horses have something to drink. Shortly after tending to the horses and tying them their lead lies to an outflung branch of an acacia tree, we unpacked only those items that we required for ourselves to make camp, drinking from the water we refilled in our water holders and nibbling on dried tack bread and meat and goat's cheese.

Soon, the hours of traveling, the fatigue and everything that we had experienced thus far took their toll and we fell asleep.  
I cannot speak for Soraya, but as exhausted as I had felt when my head hit the make-shift pillow of my traveling cloak I had expected to be asleep in a matter of moments..  
Instead I my slumber was broken by every now and then by thoughts of events just past, and perhaps even more troubling by an intimation that something of great import was about to happen.

Soraya murmured in her sleep, as if she too were being visited by something other, something beyond that was nevertheless attempting to contact them, its message unspoken but vital that it be heard. 

In her mind's eye, she was both of the earth where she lay and and floating above it, in the manner that the birds of the sky and the dragons of the wind road on the updrafts of the air.  
In a voice that she had never heard during her waking hours, it whispered in her ear of the promise inherent in the ancient magic of the dragon and how they were both fiercely independent and endlessly fascinated with the two-legged creatures who shared the desert and the distant valleys that lay beyond the Kiroby desert with them. 

The voice, that was not so much as a voice as a series of overlapping images, droned on. It was not frightening or intimidating, but calm and soothing, and deep and in her dreams, Soraya thought she could lie this way forever, listening to the voice. She wondered what had become of her other two traveling companions, but the thought drifted away like petals in a dust-cloud.  
Soot having taking refuge in one of her saddlebags. When morning came, the two of them woke with a start, glancing at each other, and even without any words spoken between us, we suddenly knew what we must do.

“He's here.” We uttered this last almost simultaneously. “The Golden Dragon Krakuna.”

The source of the magic, the key to finding the cure to the sickness,” agreed Soraya solemnly.

“In order for us to gain his aid we must first help him. Release him from his place of exile.” 

Soraya stood up and rubbed the corners of her eyes with the backs of her hands, whispering as she did so, “I've had the most curious dream, but it was a true dream, a dream sent by our ancestors.

“I believe you,” I said. “I think I had a similar dream. Do you remember anything? What will we find here?”

Soraya walked over to the face of the cavern, its top half looming at least three tall men above our heads, before answering. 

“We must place our hands on the inscribed glyphs, wait for the sun to strike them just so, and then when the time is right, we must utter the incarnation that will release the first dragon avatar, the golden dragon of the sun, and release him from his exile in this cave.” 

I walked forward to join her, glancing up to mark the position of the rising sun in the sky.

When the appointed time came, we traced the patterns of the ancient time-worn glyphs on the hard granite, the words of the arcane incantation tumbling from our lips as if they had been there all along, and neither of us bothered to wonder how we had come by this knowledge, or wonder why it should be so. It simply felt right, it felt as if we belonged.

The boulder blocking the entrance to the gave me rolled aside.

We stepped forward deeper into the cave's interior, but I paused at the threshold while Soraya darting back to our campsite to collect a pair of torches and flint, lighting them and passing one to me, and then we kept going.

The cavern itself wound down and out, longer and wider on the inside than it had appeared from the outside. This curious stretching effect was a bit disconcerting, but we ignored it and kept going. I was glad that Soraya had had the presence of mind to bring the torches because it was very hard to see what with the dripping of condensation from the stalagmites and stalactites, like rocky teeth. 

In what seemed like days, but were in truth hours we came to the end of our search, for there coiled into a deep cave that branched off from the main path was an enormous pile of glittering golden scales, the huge bat-like wings capped like a black blanket around the scaly torso.

We had found the legendary golden dragon, who legends told had been the first of his kind to reach out to an upstart yet promising creatures with the potential to learn so much more of the world around them, a kind of harmony unknown to humans until then.

We hardly dared to approach, but our mission superseded even our own safety and we strode forward.

“Is he dead?” Soraya whispered, and for the first time since we had begun this quest, she sounded truly frightened. 

“Oh, ancestors forbid!” I exclaimed. “I hope not.”

“Golden Krakuna!” Soraya cried, dropping her torch on the ground where it lay sputtering but not going out, “and getting as close to as she dared. 

“Please! Give us a sign! It has been so long, and our need is great. We come to you not as a threat, for what threat could we puny mortals ever be when weighed against your ancient and legendary might. Be we implore you, we need your wisdom more than your might.”

“She speaks the truth, Krakuna! We come to you in hopes that you will aid our people as you did once before, centuries ago. We seek a cure to an illness that strikes at the very heart of the ancient pact between humans and dragons, an illness that is draining that magic from us.”

The golden dragon stirred, its sides heaving in and out as it inhaled and exhaled. 

I stole a quick and relieved glance with Soraya, because when she had feared that the golden dragon might be dead, it had truthfully, nearly stopped my own heart. 

Also, I had wondered up until that mysterious dream at the foot of the cavern, if the cure we so desperately needed might take the form of a plant, or a spring, it sill might, but was not as certain as I had been since that dream.

The golden dragon raised its head and opened its eyes, but not all at once, first one then the other winked open and surveyed us.  
In a voice deep and sonorous, “So, someone has come at last. It been long, so long, perhaps longer than either of you could ever imagine. But that is of no consequence, just now. Who are you?”

Bowing, I said. “Prince Jintao of Basara, and this is Princess Soraya of Sinjandi.”

“I am honored to meet both of you.” 

“As are we,” I replied.

“Soraya, is it? You spoke earlier of an illness. I have heard and mused much on this, but my long sleep, my long exile had driven it from my mind.”

“You know of it?” I exclaimed. 

“My, my, you are an impatient one,” Krakuna remarked.

“Yes, centuries ago, the illness struck, and while it was contained by the wise men and rulers of that land, they could not contain it completely, for you see the magic depends as much as the individual’s own will and power as it does upon belief in the magic; one cannot exist without the other, working in complete concert, a harmonious union of two souls.”

“I understand, I think, I replied. “But what of the cure?”

“The cure, oh yes, the cure. He shivered and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, where the gigantic golden dragon had lain, a golden man dressed in a robe of slippery glittering scales stood. “As a matter of fact, you are looking at it.”

“I, I don't believe it!” Soraya exclaimed. “You're the cure!”

“Yes, in my long exile, I've had plenty of time to ponder it, and I believe that I have discovered the secret to combat the magic-draining plague.” 

“Tell us how!” Soraya urged.

“An ancient sect of dissident but powerful mages for whatever reason, centuries ago believed that the humans' reliance on the magic possessed by the dragons was anathema and sought to put an end to it.”

“At first they tried persuasion and political wiles to convince the rulers of the various desert kingdoms to put an end to such magic, when those gambits proved to be not as efficacious as they had hoped, eventually they hit upon the idea of eliminating the magic at the source.”

“What happened?”I asked. 

“Some dragons they simply exiled, by guile or by force, either way the result was the same. I was chose exile, but fearing and knowing my power, they were forced to to desperate measures and used magic that was forbidden even back then to seal me inside this cavern.” 

He heaved a deep sigh, making his scales and his wings tremor with the released pressure, and then added solemnly, “Others were simply killed out right.”

“But, there's one thing I don't understand, why would they go to such lengths to rid the world of dragons. For more then centuries the dragons have been our friends and loyal allies, they are a part of us, part of this land.”

“They feared them,” the golden dragon replied quietly.

“One would think that after all that, the dragons would have nothing more to do with humans,” said Soraya.

“Yes, one would, but as I said that was centuries ago, and while dragons have long lives and even longer memories, such things pass, and I believe that the times has come to right a centuries-old wrong.”

“You will come back with us?” I asked. I shivered, I stood before a living legend, a legend made flesh and blood and the promise of not only a cure for the deadly plague but also a chance for a new start.

“I will,” replied Krakuna the Golden.

“We are honored, Golden One, deeply honored.” I bowed, not the one the often was to be seen at court functions, but the deep and heart-felt one that hadn't been used for centuries.

“You're a curious fellow, Prince Jintao,” Krakuna remarked as we walked away from the cavern in which he slept and out to the twisting corridors of the cave.  
Soraya smiled, and said, “Yes, he is, but I love him anyway.”

“That is good to hear,” Krakuna replied, with a smile gracing his lips.  
He agreed to return with us to our kingdoms, but also to help their peoples better understand the restoration of their magical powers and their harmonious union of their physical powers with those of the dragon spirits.  
**  
It was fortunate that we had brought along more than just the two horses, for after distributing the saddle bags on our own mounts. We happened to have a spare horse to serve as a mount for the golden dragon who had insisted to travel with his in his human form.  
We had soon seen the wisdom of this course of action, because having a huge golden dragon flying overhead would be rather conspicuous, not to mention rather disconcerting.

Soraya, in the back of her mind, longed to witness such a marvel with her own eyes, because her peoples’ legends also spoke of the ability to shape-change and deep within her a longing such as she had never felt stirred in her blood and bones.  
**

Conclusion 

 

The return journey across the Kiroby desert went much quicker than the outward one, and That was just as well because we were not delayed by the magical traps that had sought to ensnare us then, and we were all feeling an especial urgency to return with the cure as quickly as possible.

Krakuna the Golden proved to be an adept horse-back rider although we could both tell that horse seemed more than a little disconcerted about having such a rider on its back; however it could not be helped.  
He spent the journey humming unfamiliar melodies under his breath, tunes that bordered but never quite went over the edge of dissonance, and telling us how to take the scales and tissue of his dragon form and properly mix them to make enough of an elixir to produce enough of the cure for the entire populace.

By unspoken agreement Soraya and I had decided that although we found the subject of Krakuna's past fascinating one and wished to learn more, we felt it wish not to press him on this point, figuring that it would be both rude and painful for him. 

The little that he had told him seemed to have been charged with both a memory of a distant pain, and nostalgia. By questioning him about it, we would only being rubbing proverbial salt in old, wounds. While the scars still remained, it would hardly be worth it to force him to reopen them.

The sentries who rode the permiter of my father's kingdom of Basara were the first to come upon us, hailing us with loud cries of joy and surprise to see us alive and well. What they made of Krakuna I could not tell you, for all of the men had been long schooled in mastering their expressions.

When we were escorted into the palace and thus into the audience hall of my father, I did make one firm demand before I would tell everything that we had been through, and that was to insist that an envoy be sent to Sinjandi and have Soraya's parents join us.  
.  
'Maybe,“ I thought, 'at long last, we will all put aside centuries of enmity and rancor, and mistrust and work together.'

My father was not overly thrilled at thus being commanded, but I insisted. He gave orders for all of us to be given chambers in the palace and for food, drink, and a chance to wash the dust of the road from our bodies and garments; plenty of time for the invitation to reach Sinjandi.

I had no way of knowing what had transpired in our absence, of how far advanced the illness had spread, but I knew that having the cure to the illness that had struck our homes and the cure in hand, as it were, took priority over even a centuries-old feud.

We spent hours discussing how to go about distrusting the cure to the general populace, the time came that we must present the cure to both royal families, and I must admit I was chomping at the bit like a war-horse raring to go. It went much better than I had thought it would, Krakuna proved to be most convincing, and his deep mellow tones and confidence of bearing won over even the most hardened of hearts and skeptical of doubters.  
Krakuna also said that he would only remain in both kingdoms for as long as it took to make enough of the cure for all the inhabitants and that when that was done he would return to find his own place in this brave new world. 

Soraya and I would be grieved to see him go, for his was an amiable creature, but we understood that he sought his own home, but that it was not goodbye forever, but merely a farewell, and that while he felt stifled by the company of so many humans, he also would check in on us from time time. When he finally left, the parting was bittersweet for both Soraya and I.

 

**  
For my part, I was surprised to see that my old mentor and arms-master, Darius was present, standing to one side of throne with his feet planted wide apart and a smile on his rugged face, a smile just twitching at the corners of his full lips, as if to express satisfaction with a job finally seen to completion.

The tattoos on my own arms twitched, those clan-markings that adorned my cinnamon-colored skin that he had so early on told me meant much more than just an indication of my clan affiliation, twitched in response.

The eye of the green and blue dragon drawn on my left arm seemed to glow in the light of the candles that lined the audience hall and wink back at me. 

I tried to summon the words of the ben-gaharis techniques that Darius had taught me, but no sooner than I had thought I had grasped hold of them, they slipped away again. I made a mental note to speak to him when I had the chance and see if he could jog my errant memory.

When I had a moment to myself I was half-tempted to see if I could summon it forth as Darius had shown me more than a fortnight ago in that practice room.  
I did make me wonder if the color of each person's soul-dragon mirrored something of their inner nature; perhaps I would soon find out.

I gave a nod of my head to Darius. He had been right. 

With the cure now in full production, the magic, the dragons, all of us, would learn to live in harmonious accord. Perhaps we would have much to learn from one another, and not make the same mistakes as we did in the past.


End file.
